Sunday, December 19, 2010

The peeps left me alone again yesterday to do their "Christmas shopping." I put that in quotes since they've done all their shopping for me online so what else do they need to buy? The peeps went to the local shopping plaza. It's not really a mall because it's outdoors and there aren't that many stores. Once they walked the mile and a half there, crossing the dangerous highway, they decided to split up and meet 45 minutes later—I told you there weren't many stores—in front of 6th Avenue Electronics. Pop went in to "case" the Shop Rite, since there are rumors that Pathmark is going out of business and shuttering all their stores. TW went into Old Navy to shop for Pop. Who do you think finished first? If you guessed Pop, you'd be wrong.

Pop, no doubt thinking there was no way TW would shop that fast, took his time, checking out how big the store was and if they had 2-lb brownies. He took note of every flavor ice cream they had. TW knew how dangerous it would be to leave Pop alone in front of the electronics' store, so she shopped like she was on one of the those game shows, where you get to keep everything you could pick up in 15 minutes for free. It took her less than a half hour to fill 2 large shopping bags—and she didn't even look in ladies clearance.

I must tell you this about the peeps. Pop's wallet is so tight that George Washington cries if he has to leave his friends. He clings to the sides of the wallet for dear life. TW, on the other hand, slides that credit card so fast, sparks fly out of it. However, Pop wants one of those cool flat TVs so bad that TW knew she must stop him before he went crazy and spent the Christmas money. She HAD to beat him to 6th Avenue Electronics. She got to their meeting stop a full 10 minutes early and even had time to waddle into that Petland that moved in where Petco used to be. Wait a second, the peeps didn't tell me there was a store where they could shop for me in that plaza. Of course, she didn't buy me anything cos she had to hurry back to their meeting place before Pop did anything foolish.

Finally, to add insult to injury, they went out of lunch, leaving the cat alone even longer. Would it have hurt them to bring something home and share it with the cat? I think not.

Looking lonely and abused, I wonder when the peeps will be home and if they bought me anything.

Lastly, I'd like to thank my BuzzLucas for the wonderful Christmas present and noms he sent me. He is just so thoughtful and kind. I'm so lucky he's my main squeeze. I would also like to send thanks to my good furrend Fusa for the treats he sent me and the gift his Mom sent TW. A cat can't have too many treats. I'm thankful for the caring furrends I've made this past year and those who have sent me cards: @CrazyFusa, Jeego (@SeattleP) and @Herbie_cat. Merry Christmas and to all, and to all a good night.

Tuesday, December 14, 2010

Caturday, a new friend moved into our house. His name is Fraser. He's a bit eccentric—I guess all trees are. He doesn't say much and he drinks a LOT of water. He doesn't have a mouth so he just laps it up through his ass. Wait, the peep is trying to tell me something. I'm sorry, he laps it up through his TRUNK. Whatever. Uncle Vinny and Aunt Marta helped pick him out and drive him home. They're good people. Anyway, Fraser is 9 feet tall. Look at how small I look next to him! He's also very very skinny. Peeps said they needed a skinny tree so my cat tree would still fit in front of the window. Can you believe they actually—gasp—moved my cat tree from it's primo location.

My eyes can melt you!

Can you believe I was on tv? Pictures don't lie. You can see I am, indeed ON tv. Notice the old-fashioned tv the peeps have. Please do not judge me by it.

Anything breakable up here

Next, I had to inspect the decorations. Hmmm, looks like a new nutcracker thing. I say give the nuts all the crack they want.

Here's a bare spot!

Sunday was the main attraction: the decorating of the tree. It actually went very smoothly. No cursing or swearing. Of course, I helped. I did all the heavy lifting, so to speak and they did the easy stuff. On the picture on the right, you can see me helping Pop with the lights. I learned that all the lights on our tree are LED, including the star atop. Let's hear it for the peeps.

And, finally, here's the finished product. I can't show you the entire tree in one picture, because our room is too small to get back far enough so the star is cut off.

Tuesday, December 7, 2010

As you all know—now that MaggieTKat has immortalized her in The Anipal Times—TW helps type my tweets, blog and FB messages. My Pop stays in the background and earns the money to buy my noms and toys.

CK comtemplates life w/o food

Last week was Pay It Forward Day and TW just happened to be out buying my cat food. I know what you're thinking—it's about time she was doing something for The Cat. There was a good sale on the food I'm currently enamored with so she was shopping at a chain that she usually doesn't step foot into. After she loaded her basket with my food, she decided to stop and see if she could find a certain food for one of my Twitter furrends, who shall be remain nameless to protect his privacy. You may think you know who he is. You may be right. You may be wrong. His human is having trouble locating this specific type of noms. TW was surprised to find Pastures of Plenty. She did what any good person would do and bought every pouch they had. May I interject here that my furrend has Excellent culinary taste.

We arranged to have his human come to our place to exchange the contraband, er, noms, since he lives relatively close to us. Little did we know, we were in for quite a surprise—and so was his human.

The food I USED to eat.

They began with a lot of talk about the "kids," with the furrend's human, of course, noting how stunning I was. Then Pop mentioned something about being off from work that day. Furrend's human then asked what Pop did. Pop began to regurgitate in the most technical terms he could what he did. It sounded something like this. "blah-de-blah blah-de-blah boring-blahrity-blah zzzz" Oh sorry, those were my zzzz's. I had no idea what he was talking about; TW had no idea what he was talking about. Furrend's human said "Do you work at XYZ Company? I thought I recognized you! I see you on the elevator all the time. I work for XYZ Company too." A light went on in Pop's head: "You work on the ____ floor near Joe Blow." What the heck is the chance of Pop working with one of my furrend's humans? All I can say is, XYZ Company better stay in business for another 20 years, at least; or I won't be the only cat back out on the mean streets, panhandling.

Monday, November 22, 2010

I have so much to be thankful for this Thanksgiving. I have a furever home, good food, a pillowtop mattress to sleep on; but the thing I'm most thankful for is having peeps that give me a plethora of subjects to blog about. With the crazy stuff that goes on here, I never have to worry about where my next blog is coming from. I'm gonna go back in time to talk about a Thanksgiving mishap from before my blogging days.

You've all heard of Mrs. Smith's pies?

Every year TW makes a couple of pumpkin pies, usually before I wake up and without incidence. Of course, there was that year when she spilled half of the pie on the over door but that's for another Thanksgiving blog. For some reason—maybe there was a good enough sale, coupled with a coupon—but Pop decided to try a Mrs. Smith pumpkin pie. They threw it in the freezer until they felt like having some.

Let's not tell the peeps that they have to BAKE this pie. Let's see if they read the instructions. Shhhh! I'll watch from far away.

Can't wait to get me some pumpkin pie!

Anyone who guessed they didn't even look at the instructions WINS! Pop brought the pie over to the table, opened it up and—TA DAAAA—there was liquid pumpkin all over the floor. Cue the clean-up committee.

Thank You, peeps for always making this blog a fun place for my furrends to come and visit. StunningKeisha has been visited over 1200 times this year and for this I'm also thankful. Make no mistake about it: I'm thankful for all the furrends I've made during my year and a half on Twitter. Without my furrends and followers, there would be no blog. I love each and every one of you. OK, I love some more than others, but that's only cos they leave comments here all the time and stoke my large ego. xoxo

Happy Thanksgiving and enjoy your turkey.

Love, Cathy Keisha

ADDENDUM

A lot of you guys have inquired about those big orange rocks that light up. You can buy them at the Himalayan Salt Shop. Right now they're running a sale and by using the code: freeship, you can get free retail ground shipping on any order over $200. You can also use the code holiday2010 to save 15% on any purchase, regardless of order total. Note: this is NOT a paid advertisement.

You also probably have noticed I've added pages for my co-stars and for some of my favorite shelters. And, if you would be so kind, click on a few of my ads, so TW doesn't have to go back to work and she can continue to be at my beck-and-call full-time. Check out the toys that keep me amused on the sidebar on the right. With the holidays coming up, you may find them interesting. But most of all, keep laughing, it's good for the soul.

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

I always knew the peeps were nuttier than a fruitcake. When I bite into them—and you know I LOVE to bite into them—I can taste the peanutty goodness. It's almost like biting into a Snickers bar. I mean who else keeps Christmas lights up in the kitchen all year long—and lights them? I got my proof when I overheard a conversation they were having the other day. I added some translation and comments because this IS my blog after all.

What's this the peeps are talking about? Gotta hear this!

TW: I'm going to Whole Foods tomorrow. Do you need anything? (CK: So far, so good.)

TW: Oh, you must be talking about a Nutti (sic) Pot. I have one I could give you because I haven't used it in a while. (CK: Of course not, your nutty quotient is high enough without you using it.)

Pop: You heard of them? (CK: Poor Pop is always the last to know anything but it this case, it's a good thing.)

CK: Why wouldn't she? Has there EVER been anything strange that she HASN'T heard of? THAT would be news. Ask her if she's heard of dust rags or bathroom cleanser!

TW: Jessica told me about them last year. I bought it in [big chain drugstore]. (CK: Uh huh. She's trying to appear normal but Pop and I know better.)

Pop: I thought it was something that you had to buy in one of those natural places. (CK: You must mean those voodoo places she goes to.)

TW: Believe it or not, they're very mainstream now. You can buy them in any drugstore. (CK: Try to talk yourself into that, woman. You know what else is mainstream? CLEANING MY LITTER BOX!!!!)

You heard it here first. The peeps have a Nutti Pot. Next thing you know, they're going to have a big orange rock that lights up. Oh wait, they already have a big orange rock that lights up. Never mind.

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

I like this photo hunt a lot because it lets me share some of the pictures we've taken out our window. When I look out the window, our view of NYC is a wonder to behold. I can actually see the entrance to the Lincoln Tunnel! On New Year's Eve, I can see the fireworks in Times Square from my perch and sometimes they shoot fireworks in Central Park for my enjoyment. I may not go out, but I have the best view of the world. NYC is my litter box! At least, it seems that close sometimes. I'm just going to bore you with a couple of pics.

Midtown and upper Manhattan

This might look like the WTC but it's the new Time-Warner Center

A view taken last Autumn.

Sometimes I look for my furrends OTRB

This is a blog hop. I hope I copied the coding right. I'm not too good at HTML. Please join the Hop and show me your view of the world.

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

When people think about comic strips, they think about Dilbert, Peanuts, Over the Hedge, inane reading that makes you laugh. One comic does more. It makes you laugh; it makes you think; and, yes, it makes you cry sometimes.

Patrick McDonnell's strip Mutts runs in over 700 newspapers in 20 countries. The adventures of Earl, a non-descript little dog with a big heart and Mooch, a black and white tuxedo kitteh are funny; but they have a message. All this month, the comic features Shelter Stories. Little 3 panel vignettes featuring a dog or cat in a shelter much like the ones you and I came from. Some are shown going home with their furever families; some aren't so lucky. The strip touches on animal abuse and puppy mills. Their web site has an archive of past strips and also a listing of organizations that dedicate their work to animal and environmental causes.

Mr McDonnell has joined with master animator Paul Fierlinger in creating public service announcements on behalf of the adoption of shelter pets. Here are some really cute ones.

Here are some more Mutts panels for your enjoyment. You can enlarge them by clicking on them.

If Mutts isn't in your local paper, I urge you to check them out online. You'll be happy you did. They are a comic strip with a conscience.

Monday, November 8, 2010

The past couple of days everywhere I go around here, anipals are asking me why I haven’t written a proper blog since my Gluttony Sermon on October 26th. Just yesterday, Chopper axed me in the courtyard and Tuna axed on the elevator. Yesterday turned out to be a very bad day for me. I spent all afternoon dictating a new blog to the woman and she lost it. More accurately Blogger lost it. When it was finally done, we pressed publish and all that appeared was the title. The rest of the post vanished. We tried to retrieve it through our computer’s history and through the cache but nothing worked. A pox on Blogger. My aim is to make this blog ever better and funnier. So take that, Blogger. Pfffft!

The evil ducks have invaded our house again. You might remember the air ducks that needed vacuuming in May, but this time they’ve lodged themselves in TW's eyes. You read that right. She has something called tear ducks in her eyes and they’re blocked and infected. Staring at the computer makes this condition worse, which is why I haven’t been online nearly as much as I’d like. Did you know the last time I dj’ed Nip Club, TW had her eyes diluted? Let me apologize for not commenting on my furrend’s blogs. We read as many as we can until TW’s eyes start bothering her. We haven’t spent the time commenting so we can visit more of your blogs. I know the drill, if I comment on your blog, you’ll comment on mine. I don’t work that way but if you do, I’m not going to fret about it. This little ghetto cat has more important things on her mind.

I won another prize at the Anipal Times office pawty this past weekend. I won a $20 gift certificate to Nip and Bones. Half that prize will be donated to kick off the Santa Paws Drive.This is my favorite holiday charity. Imagine the faces on all those jailed little shelter cats’ faces when they get new nip toys for Christmas! Pop perfers Toys For Tots and TW donates coats to NY Cares but they don’t have anything to do with anipals.

I didn't catch a mouse but I caught this neat shoelace. Only let your cat play with shoelaces if you're supervising them!

At the AT Pawty, I did a DJ shift. In case you missed it, through the magic of Blogger, I can recreate it. I was a bit hyper mostly because of those 12 cups of coffee I drank before my shift!

#ATPAWTY! LET’S PAWTY! CATHY KEISHA IS ME AND HERE WE GO! Work by Bow Wow Wow

Let’s see u shake it @SidTheCathoula #ATPAWTY WORK IT! Dance This Mess Around by The B 52s

THAT’S IS 4 ME! THANX 4 LISTENING & DANCING! Do Anything You Wanna Do by Eddie and the Hot Rod #ATPAWTY KEEP ROCKIN

Pop’s birthday was last week. It’s amazing to me that he’s made it this far. He seems to get a concussion a day. Yes, he’s that clumsy. If he’s giving me food in the kitchen, he hits his head on the bottom of the cabinets. Any time Pop bends down, his head finds a ledge to bang on. When TW had the broken ankle and Pop had to move the wash from the washer to the dryer, he hit his head on the dryer door which he left open.

Last weekend, he surprised us all. He cracked his noggin in the bathroom. The bathroom has nothing that juts out: no ledges, no cabinets, nothing. TW and I looked at each other when we heard the crash. It was loud and dramatic. We didn’t know what to do. Pop gets testy when we ask if everything is OK. Maybe he’s sensitive after all the concussions. Anyway, somehow Pop hit his skull on the bathroom door. You read that right. The. Door. [Dramatic pause for effect] He demonstrated to me how he did it, but I still don’t believe it.

I’ve saved the best for last. Wednesday night, I thought I heard some vermin behind our tv! Can you believe a mouse had the nerve to enter under MY watch?!? I was going to teach it a lesson it wouldn’t forget. Alas, I couldn’t get behind the tv, so I was forced to wait it out. There’s never been vermin of any kind in this apartment as long as we’ve been living here and I intend to keep it that way. Turns out, it was a false alarm. A kitteh can dream of fresh Mice Cream, can’t she?

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

At the October Pawpawty, I won this incredible pawtrait of myself by @zaziart. The prize was donated by my wonderful furrend @Smokey8. I think she really captured my stunningness, don't you? Since Pop's birthday was on Halloween, I gave him the pawtrait as a gift. If you'd like your pawtrait done to give your peeps as a Christmas present, you can visit her web site. It's never too early to start buying for the holidays. I'd like to extend my warmest thanks to Joan and Smokey for their generosity.

Sunday, October 31, 2010

Today is not only Howloween but it's my Pop's birthday. I hope he has a wonderful day and I'll purr all day for him. I don't usually do Blog Hops but this one is special. We love Howloween but since we live in an apartment complex, we don't get many trick or treaters. The building used to send around a sign-up list for the owners who welcomed the little devils but they don't anymore so TW put up a sign on the door to our unit. The sign features my picture in the pumpkin carving so I'm not complaining. I hope some kids come by so the peeps won't have to binge on all the candy themselves.

Tuesday, October 26, 2010

I was going to blog this week about the different ways in which I've avoided taking my meds these past 3 weeks. As you know, I was diagnosed with Bartonella virus aka Cat Scratch Fever and was sentenced to antibiotics for 21 days. Pop decided it would be a good idea to grab me first thing in the morning—after he had dressed for work—and have TW ram the eyedropper into my mouth. Not such a good idea since I had a better idea. My idea was to let the meds—thick brown smelly stuff—trickle out of my mouth all over his good designer shirts. Two days left and he still hasn't learned to use a towel to protect his shirts. Pre-treat became a household word around this place on wash day.

The 4-lb chocolate bunny

Now for my main blog subject: gluttony. For 4 years, the peeps rationed me to ⅓ of a 5 oz can of wet food and a scoop full of dry kibble every day. Meanwhile, they ate everything that could fit into their mouths including the 4-lb chocolate rabbit that came into our house at Easter time. I'd say, they ate it in about 4 days, which would be 8 servings in total. This week, came the 2-pound brownie. I wish I had a picture of it; but I was a couple of days too late. Seems someone neglected to tell the gluttons that 1/4 pound of brownie was NOT one serving. Pathmark neglected to cut the brownie into proper servings so the peeps cut into it with glee. I'm sure Pathmark figured 2 pounds of brownies would feed a bunch of kids at a Halloween party, not two adults who don't know when they've had enough. It was a binge for the ages. On the other hand, the 2½ lb bag of apples TW bought is still sitting there one week later. I count 7 apples still sitting in it. Yum, they'll eat an apple and wash it down with a quarter pound of brownie. Then they'll tell you they ate a healthy apple for dessert. If they needed their stomachs pumped, they'd tell the doctors to pump the apple out but leave the chocolate. The thing that gets me is if they buy a box of chocolates, they limit themselves to 3 little pieces a night. It's open season on uncut brownies though.

Pop thinks because he walks 3½ miles a day at lunchtime, it gives him license to eat brownie until it comes out his tuckus, wherever that it. TW, she's been very depressed and what better way to cheer up than with a brownie orgy. Besides, it would be a shame for the brownie to go bad so they might as well enjoy it while it's still fresh. The thing is Pop is a tad over-weight but TW was thin but has started letting herself go. By the time, I become a lap cat, I won't have a lap to sit in, if you know what I mean. The peeps will be round as pumpkins.

Tonight, while stuffing their faces, Pop mentioned that he was online and noticed Krause's Homemade Candy had a 4-lb chocolate pumpkin and ... I knew what was coming next. Gak, I felt the bile rising in my throat. I think I managed to talk him into waiting for the 4-lb Santa at Christmas. And me, I'm getting an entire 3-oz can of food now. Whoopee! I think it'll all going to my hips, too.

Look at this! Finished by the 5th inning

Their gluttony is not limited to chocolate, although that's the main culprit. I've told some of my Twitter furrends about the popcorn and 32-oz bong of strawberry daiquiri the peeps had at the last ballgame of the season. A week later, they're still working on the last kernels of popcorn but the drink was gone by the 5th inning. To be fair, so was about three-quarters of the popcorn. Do you know how much salt was in that popcorn? And Pop with his high blood pressure. Soon, I'm gonna be ramming meds into HIS mouth.

Next week, I heard Pathmark was having a BOGO on the leftover 1-lb brownies. That would add up to, let's see, one meal apiece. After all, they aren't cut into servings so they must be single helpings. I'm beginning to think they need Chocoholics Anonymous.

Friday, October 22, 2010

In 2006, Franck de Las Mercedes initiated "The Priority Boxes Art Series," a peace initiative that has evolved into a movement. The artist ships abstractly painted, seemingly empty boxes with a label that reads "Fragile, handle with care: Contains peace" to people around the world. The aim of the boxes is to spark dialogue and challenge people to reconsider their ability to influence change and question the fragility, value and priority given to concepts such as peace. De Las Mercedes has shipped more than 8,000 boxes to countries and cities across the globe from urban and rural America to Asia and South Africa. Although Franck and his work have been featured on national and international television and radio, much of the requests he gets are from word of mouth and blogs such as this one.

The woman first read about the boxes in her local paper over a year ago. She immediately e-mailed Mr. de Las Mercedes. It took a while because the first box he sent was returned by the Post Office or Concierge, but we got our box this week. It was worth waiting for. Each box is completely unique. No two are alike which makes them more alluring. Our box is not only beautiful but the message means a lot. It's much more to us than a box and much more than a work of art. My peeps have been involved in the peace movement for most of their lives so we hold this box dear to our hearts.

CK #purrs4peace next to her Peace Box

The boxes are free but donations are welcome. You can write to the artist at fdlmboxes@fdlmstudio.com. It's one free box per customer and the current waiting time, according to his website, is 4-8 months. Please include your name, address and tell them you read about the project on this blog.

Please go to Mr. de Las Mercedes' site to view his abstracts and portraits, which are gorgeous, and even think about buying one. This month, he has an exhibit at he daas Gallery in Fort Myers, FL. You can also view his work on Facebook.

Monday, October 4, 2010

As many of you know, I spin tunes at the Nip Club almost every Thursday and for Frugaldougal'sPawpawties. For the first time ever, you can now see my record collection. What are records, you may ask, and I don't blame you. They're pieces of black—well some of them are pretty colors—pieces of plastic that play music. You need something called a turntable with a stylus to play them on. Although they snap, crackle and pop, they're coming back into fashion because people think they sound better than CDs. We have a lot of records which are esoteric and were never put on CD so we're doing that ourselves. The photo just shows our 33 1/3 rpm records; we also have four shelves of 45 rpm records, which are 7" rather than 12".

What do I want to listen to?

For a decade or so, the spines on the jackets of these records were only used as a scratching post but now I'm spinning them weekly for your enjoyment. I don't usually do requests but I've played a few. I play a lot of local bands that you may not have heard of but you may find you enjoy like Winter Hours, Subway Surfers, Nervus Rex, Orphan Trains, etc. Some are new and some are oldies; all are fun and great to dance to. I guarantee you'll move your feet while I'm in the booth. Stop on by—hashtag #nipclub—Thursday nights at 8 pm EST. Unfortunately, this week I won't be there due to a prior engagement. Stop by anyway because all of the dj's at the Nip Club are great.

Saturday, October 2, 2010

I'm blogging today in honor of Faith E. Gurl and Autumn M. Jackson, two of my Gramma's cats. Autumn came to live with my peeps after Gramma passed away from cancer.

Faith in December 1979

Faith was a pretty, petite part Abyssinian tabby, who was part of a litter from a cat who lived up the block from Gramma. She lived to be around 15. One day, Gramma noticed blood coming out of her and she was diagnosed with renal cancer. In those days, they didn't treat cancer in cats, and Faith was helped OTRB when she could no longer walk.

Autumn circa 2005

Autumn was a calico, who was adopted from the same rescue I was: Companion Animal Placement. She was a less adoptable cat because she was older and had an amputated toe. Autie was a little lover, showering love on anybody who would show her some attention. Shortly after her 13rd birthday, she stopped eating. Originally misdiagnosed with a gum infection, by the time the peeps found out she had liver cancer, it had spread throughout her body. She was assisted OTRB in August 2006.

This post also honors Gramma and Grandpa, who both died of cancer and Uncle Ken and Uncle Don, who we lost not too long ago.

So if you're wondering why Keisha is wearing YELLOW today, it's because if we all work together, we can find a cure for this insidious disease.

Wednesday, September 29, 2010

Yesterday was the worst day of my young life. Even worse than being out on the mean streets of Communipaw as a kitten. The peeps once again rammed me into my carrier and once again I was seated in between them in a cab headed for trouble. I didn't realize just how much trouble and pain I was in for. I couldn't possibly imagine that my Pop would dump me and leave. I thought they'd return after they went across the street to stuff their faces at Dunkin Donuts. After all, Pop doesn't drink coffee and is trying to cut down on his sugar in—aha ha ha—take. His sugar—aha ha ha ha—intake, I meant to say. Sorry I couldn't keep a straight face.

To get back to my story, what started out as any other V-E-T visit, soon turned ugly. How ugly? you say. Spine-chilling ugly. An accomplice to Dr. Evil waited for me in the examining room and quickly shoved a cold metal object into my anal cavity. She asked the peeps if they preferred any certain doctor. TW didn't want Dr. Evil because she has something against doctors who are young enough to be her grand-daughter. They voted again Dr. Sox because that's how deeply the hatred runs in the Yankees/Red Sox rivalry. Apparently if Dr. Sox saw Pop's NYY jacket, he'd extract all my teeth and sell them to Big Papi Ortiz to wear around his neck while he crushes that juicy Yankee pitching. So we were "Lucky enough"—and I use that term with as much sarcasm as I can muster—to get the head of the team, Dr. Sadist, who's been at the hospital since 1982.

Don't let Dr. Sadist's smile fool you.

I didn't like Dr. Sadist from the get-go. I hissed as he opened my mouth for a look-see and a sinister smile curled at the ends of his mouth. The peeps gave him the laundry list of things they needed him to torture me with—teeth cleaning, i/v fluids, blood test for Bartonella, distemper shot, and nail trim—and he happily obliged. He asked which paw they wanted the i/v in since they had to shave it. Then the accomplice told the peeps they could kiss me one last time and I was whisked out of the room, screaming and kicking.

They took me downstairs to a cold dungeon and the torture began. I saw the torture racks and manacles. To my credit, I put up such a fight, they had to sedate me so they could sedate me, if that makes any sense. I don't know how long I was out, but when I awoke, I realized the peeps still hadn't come back. One of the other animals told me, I was being held hostage for $1000. He told me he hadn't seen his peeps in over a year. Oh no, what if the peeps can't come up with the dough, I fretted. My cell phone, it's gone! OMC, these aren't just sadists, they're terrorists, I then realized. I wanted to call the peeps and warn them. I wanted to call Tuna one last time to say Goodbye. I wanted to send a Twitter SOS as I'd read the Iranians did last year. Somehow, I managed to find a cat with an i-pad who let me log onto my Facebook account. The i-pad had a clock which told me exactly how long I'd been in Dr. Sadist's torture chamber. I posted: CATHY KEISHA HELD HOSTAGE: HOUR 6. Will the torture ever end at 2:33. No one responded. No one read it or took it seriously. No one cared.

I then looked at my Twitter account and found that TW had hacked into it. GASP! She was telling my furrends that I was having my teeth cleaned and was fine. I WAS FINE! FAR FROM IT, WOMAN. I had a catheter in my shaved paw and nothing but metal bars under me and I WAS FINE?!?!?

TW brought her camera w/her, she forgot to use it.

Finally in the 7th hour, things began to look up. The peeps had raised the blood money. I was proud of myself. I didn't crack and didn't tell the terrorists any of the information they tried to pry out of me. America's secrets would die with me if need be. The harder they tortured, the more resolve I had. The peeps heard their final act as they viciously yanked the catheter out of me. I growled, screeched and hissed while Dr. Sadist tried to cover it up by telling the peeps things like I "was a hand full" and I "didn't play well with others."

I vow that their little game will soon be over. I think the peeps have an obligation to expose this terrorist organization for what it is. Write editorials to the local newspapers and online. Speak up for little animals all over New Jersey. And if they don't, Cathy Keisha will. Thank you for your time.

Monday, September 20, 2010

I was recently presented with this most prestigious award by Mariodacat. Now I wasn't sure exactly what "versatile" meant so I went to my Funk & Wagnells—yeah TW is THAT old—and did some research. This is what I found out:

Versatile—adjective

capable of or adapted for turning easily from one to another of various tasks, fields of endeavor, etc.: a versatile writer.

having or capable of many uses: a versatile tool.

and 3 other definitions having nothing to do with me so we're too lazy to retype them. Number 1, though, definitely sounds like me. I switch gears like a well-tuned caddy from serious posts to funny ones.

7 facts about myself:

1. My hooked tail

2. My little white bikini

I have a cute little hook at the end of my tail. The peeps don't know if I was born with it or abused as a kitten.

I never roll over on my back but if I did, you'd see my markings resemble a little white bikini.

I LOVE Mexican and Chinese food, which could be why I have this so-called irritable bowel thing. Peeps say no more spicy food for me. I say, we'll see. I can make their lives miserable cos I make the rules around these parts.

I won't play by myself. TW has to play with me and I'll harass her until she does. I'd rather play with common household items that my nip toys. I love bread ties, straws, and I can spend hours chasing a CD like a frisbee.

I belonged to the Alley street gang before I was sent to the shelter. I was in 2 shelters before the peeps adopted me.

I can see the NYC skyline from Times Square to Yankee Stadium from my window. I love to watch the Lincoln Tunnel traffic as well as the birds outside my window.

6. Our view. TW liked the way the sun reflected on the building.

Most of my Twitter furrends know me as kind, sweet and lovable; but, believe it or not, I can be downright mean and nasty. Sometimes when I jump on TW's bed at night, I terrorize her so bad she has to sleep on the couch. When the lights go out, I know I have the advantage because she can't see in the dark like I can.

Now that you know all about me—or do you?—I have to pass the award on to 3 deserving bloggers. Lemme put some names in my NYY cap. And the winners are:

Yoda Heltman's Barking Out Loud. He has a wonderful blog, which even plays music for you.

Attie Cattie, who recently started dating Lautrec, her one true love. She lives with Baby Audrey and Booshi Bunneh and has some great recipes.

My new furrend Father Tom, the church cat. I don't know too much about him, except he is a Maine Con who's the resident cat at Temptation of Christ church. Seeing as I'm headed straight to hell, I figure it wouldn't hurt to have some divine intervention.

That's it for me for now. I've got some exciting adventures lined up for y'all, if I can get TW to do my bidding (and typing).

Tuesday, September 14, 2010

We had some excitement here recently. Pop bought TW a new DVD/VCR combination because her VCR player had died over a year ago and she still has a lot of VHS tapes that she hasn't converted including my Video Catnip, I might add. The peeps have an ancient TV, which weighs about a ton and a half and Pop hasn't even attempted to move it since his hernia and back surgeries. Before then, Pop, being the big, strong and heroic man is he, used to move it with ease all by himself. With one pinkie finger, even! Because I keep it real on this blog and don't want to be giving out any false information, I looked it up; our television weighs 238 lbs! That's 108 kg, for those on the metric system. That's not counting the weight of the stand, cable box and DVD recorder, so do the math. I did supervise. I'm not allowed behind the TV or in the stand, so I did some exploring and the peeps were too preoccupied to stop me.

Trying to get attention while the ballgame is on

The peeps together pulled and tugged and finally got the TV out to where Pop could get to work hooking everything up. You say it should be simple: take the cords out, label everything and stick them back into the new DVD player. I say HAH! For some reason, it was originally hooked up NOT to record off the TV so Pop decided to remedy that. He pulled every last cord out from the TV, cable box and DVD machine. Every! Last! One! Of course, they didn't take my advice and simply order TiVO. Did I mention that he didn't unplug anything from the wall outlet?

After a few minutes (although it seemed like hours), he told TW to turn on the TV. Nothing but a black screen. Several minutes later, they tried again and there was a gorgeous picture. Mission accomplished? Not so fast. The TV worked on its own, but not through the cable box. After a few more tries, I'll relay to you their conversation. I'm cleaning up the language for young ears.

TW: Maybe we should call Cablevision and they can walk you through this.

Pop: I know what I'm doing. It should work now.

TV now shows white noise and static. 20 minutes passes.

TW: Should I call the front desk? I'm sure one of the maintenance guys should know how to hook this up. They leave in a half hour.

Pop: Can it, woman (OK, those are my words but he was annoyed). I KNOW WHAT I'M DOING!! I'm just trying some different hookups. Turn it back on.

More white noise; more static.

TW: Just hook the TV and cable box. I'll use the DVD to dub and not to tape off the TV. We can take CK's idea and get TiVO. (OK, my words again.)

Pop: $#%##$%%^!

TW: There's sound but no picture. Let me go back there.

CK: Yo! It's past someone's feeding time and it's very important that the sick cat gets fed ON TIME! GET ON IT, WOMAN!

Pop [moving out of way]: What did you do? We have a picture!

Now don't get the idea that TW actually did anything back there. All she did was jiggle one of the cords in an effort to remove it. Then, by the grace of GOD, there was a picture AND sound. It was all Pop's hookups that worked. He just rammed them in too hard.

STILL trying to get attention and looking increasingly ANNOYED!

Finally, just like magic, the DVD also worked. We have liftoff! When it came time to move the TV again, the woman used her legs. She pushed with her right leg and moved 250 lbs, with ease. Pop hardly had to push at all. Note to self: don't let TW get mad enough to kick you or you're in big trouble!

Finally after all the excitement, the stunning little sick cat got her food, which is really the most important part. I mean, what do I care about whether the TV works. Of course, there is a Video Catnip on VHS that I haven't been able to watch in over a year. Woman, where's my video?

BREAKING NEWS: THE WORLD'S MOST STUNNING CAT HAS JUST BEEN GIVEN THE PRESTIGIOUS VERSATILEBLOGGERAWARD BY MARIODACAT! HEAR KEISHA'S ACCEPTANCE SPEECH ON THIS SAME CHANNEL WITHIN THE NEXT FEW DAYS.

Thursday, September 9, 2010

Saturday marks the 9th anniversary of the horrendous attacks on NYC and America where over 3000 innocent people lost their lives. I don’t think anyone in the U.S., except those in NYC, Washington or possibly Oklahoma City can truly understand the emotions of that day. Today’s guest co-blogger is my Pop, who works a couple of blocks from the World Trade Center. He isn’t quite the writer I am, but I hope you’ll take the time to read his first-hand account. Take it away, Pop!

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I remember going to the Yankees/Red Sox game the night of 9/10/01. We had an amazing thunderstorm with the rain cascading down the facade of the old stadium and the game was cancelled around 9 pm. On the subway home, we talked about getting to work on time instead of going in late, as we had planned. Yanks/Sox games always last way too long.

I got to the office about 8:47 am that morning and had just turned on my computer to start work. It was a beautiful Tuesday and it was the weekly close. I had signed on and began to open applications when I heard someone say the WTC had been hit by a plane. We thought the plane was a small private plane.

A group of my coworkers and I went to the window to see what was going on. We saw the North Tower ablaze; papers fluttering in the sky like large snowflakes. We also saw objects too heavy to be paper plunging to the earth and didn’t know we were watching people jumping from the building. All you could hear were the sound of sirens from the Fire Department, Police Department and EMS all rushing up Broadway to the disaster. We were all wondering how they would fight this fire.

Another coworker yelled a plane was coming. As she yelled, the entire bank of windows on the 27th floor of 1 State Street turned dark as the plane whizzed so close by you could read all the markings on the bottom. The building shook from the power of the jet engines.

The plane sped toward the tower, although it looked to be happening in slow motion. The explosion that followed was better than anything Hollywood could create. My boss started yelling it was time to get out of the building. He was yelling to get our belonging and get out.

People were running to get their things while I—being the grandson of a fireman—stood transfixed by what was unfolding at that window. It just amazed me that a box of continuous feed computer paper floated out from one of the broken windows and then slowly unraveled as it made it’s way toward the ground. Then I felt the heat from the explosion and I too knew it was time to leave.

27 flights of stairs later, we were standing in Battery Park watching, again not clear as to what we had actually seen. No phones—either land lines or cell—were working so we couldn’t call our loved ones to tell them we were ok.

R and V and some others chose to stay and try to find a phone that worked. My department chose to walk. We wound our way up the East Side of Manhattan looking for safety, being careful to walk along the water and away from the buildings. Somewhere in Chinatown we heard the roar of what sounded at first like another plane and then like a subway train. The South Tower had fallen and what we heard were the floors pancaking. Fortunately, we were far enough from the plume of smoke and dust that we didn’t inhale any of it. We continued to walk until we were in Little Italy when we heard the sound again. This time we turned around in time to watch The North Tower falling. None of us would ever be the same again. None of us will ever forget that moment. It will be hard to forget that 14th Street (about 4 miles from where I work) and somewhere is where civilization started to appear again only there were soldiers directing traffic.

We ended up on 62nd Street and 1st Avenue, ironically near where I had once worked. I thought about that as we walked. We caught our breath, got to see some tv coverage, got something to eat and it was time to move again. The attacks took place before 9:00 am EST and I got home to my two cats sometime after 8:00 pm EST. In between, a friend and I saw 7 WTC also collapse from the attack. We were at 23rd Street and the Hudson River waiting for a rescue boat to take us to Jersey.

I now cherish the extra time I’ve been given and the people I knew then and know now. I’m sorry we all had to go through this, but at the same time it has made us better and stronger.

Everyone after 9/11 wrote and spoke how they never would forget this day but since then it sometimes seems to me people look at what happened as an inconvenience. People from the rest of this country seem to want to forget it was America, not New York City that was attacked.

We all remember our brave soldiers who gave their lives every year on Memorial Day and all our soldiers who are doing and have done their duty on Veterans Day. On this day we need to remember all the innocent who did nothing more than come to work that day or get on a plane to begin a vacation/business trip.

I wish for all of you peace, health and happiness for whatever days we all have left. Please don’t forget as I never will.

This photo appeared in Vanity Fair. It was taken by Will Nuñez from the same building that Pop works in.

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This is what TW wrote in December 2001:

Nine One One—September 11, 2001—The day CK’s Pop realized he worked in a war zone. No one really expects to look out their office window and see a plane zoom by—within about 20 feet of the window—and slam into another building filled with innocent people. Nobody should have to feel the explosions that rocked his building—five blocks from the World Trade Center—that morning or see people jumping to their death. Far too many people in lower Manhattan had to do those very things that morning. Our lives and attitudes were changed that day but we were luckier than others. What’s 27 flights of stairs, followed by an 80 block walk when two of your neighbors made a trip down 88 flights of smoky stairs, saw co-workers burned over 30% of their bodies, arrived in the WTC plaza as Tower 2 collapsed and lay among the death and destruction of the building they’d worked in. Donald, on a prosthetic leg walked down those 88 flights of stairs and ran for his life through pitch black smoke and ash twice that morning. And me, I just watched from 32nd Street, hoping that the Empire State Building wasn’t the next target. My co-workers held each other and cried as we witnessed the towers pancake down and turn to dust. The worst part was not knowing where CK’s Pop was. If he was caught up in the dust and debris of the crumbling towers. I didn’t hear from him until almost 12 hours later when he finally made it across the river to NJ and called my friend’s house which served as my overnight shelter while the bridges and tunnels were closed. That same friend found out the next day that her neighbor was crushed by a plane’s landing gear as she came up from the subway. Pray for her as she begins the long road to recovery after 6 operations to repair her body.

CK’s Pop’s building was closed for about 10 days until it was considered “safe” and there were enough phone lines to conduct business. We still don’t know how safe the air is down there while the fires continue to burn. After his first visit to the now-sacred ground, I received this e-mail: “Just got back from Ground Zero. The horror of it cannot be described without seeing it. The destruction is massive.”

God bless the victims and the survivors. Let us not forget the sights and sounds of that day or the bravery of the rescue workers—the firemen, policemen, EMS and others—who ran into buildings about to collapse so my neighbors could come home to their children. Say a prayer for the young child who doesn’t yet realize the hatred and evil that exists in the world he’s entered.

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The only ones who made out good that day were Autumn and Nicky because they got 2 dinners that night! TW had arranged for a neighbor to feed them and when Pop finally made it home, he fed them too!

9/11 was a terrible day for America. What’s worse is that a day that was supposed to bring us together, has divided us in so many different ways. People spent years arguing over what to build to replace those building and who was going to pay for it. Now the heroes of 9/11 are fighting to get someone to pay their mounting medical bills. The air they were told was safe to breathe at Ground Zero, obviously wasn’t safe, since our first responders are suffering cancers, lung diseases, skin diseases and other medical problems they couldn’t have imagined. They should be given the same care as returning soldiers and war vets because Ground Zero was a war zone. The latest battle tearing us apart is about the plans to build a mosque 2 blocks away from Ground Zero. Even TW and Pop are on different sides on this one. I’d say humans are acting like animals but that would insult us animals.

Monday, September 6, 2010

It was a dark and stormy night! Actually, it was a beautiful summer morning, albeit a little chilly for August; but I always wanted to honor Snoopy by using that line. I found myself riding between the peeps in a cab, heading for trouble. Let me start at the beginning or begin at the start.

Some weeks back, I wrote a blog about the peeps being worried about my health. Last Thursday night, I went off my dry kibble. I just decided I didn't want it. Sometimes a girl has to play hard to get—right? I refused to even step into the kitchen. TW decided she didn't like how fidgety I was in bed or the sounds I was making. I never thought I'd see it in my lifetime, but TW got up at 6 a.m. and told Pop we needed to go for a ride. We needed him to spend a lot of his $$ in a short amount of time.

Calls were made and my carrier appeared out of nowhere. I sniffed around and remembered what happened last time I climbed into there. I shivered at the thought.

Do I look terrified? Do I look pathetic enough?

I didn't fall for the old food at the case trick; but Pop threw my favorite toy in and I followed. He slammed the door. I struggled mightily as he lifted and case and they went out the door. I howled like a banshee in the cab. All too soon, we were there.

The house of horror

Once inside the dreaded place, Pop placed me on the scale—I weigh 9 lbs.—which turned out to be the only thing that wasn't torture. What followed is pretty much a blur. They stuck a cold, sharp object up my butt; poked and probed every inch of my body and then said they had to take further tests. Yo, what do you mean, further tests? My temperature was normal and I didn't have an upper-respiratory infection so they wanted to make sure I didn't have something more sinister. Pop told them money was no object when it came to me and because he didn't want to be giving me antibiotics if I didn't need them. Remember, this was the place that misdiagnosed Autumn's cancer as a "gum infection." Needless to say, after 2 weeks of antibiotics, Autumn's cancer was not cured.

Dr. Evil

Doctor Evil, pictured at right, then took my blood, 2 full-body x-rays, gave me an injection of penicillin and subcutaneous fluids. Then came the final insult—GASP—they cut my claws! The final outcome—she still didn't know what exactly was wrong with me—was that I was dehydrated and had some inflammation in my intestines. I had a lot of intestinal gas—toot toot—probably from that starvation diet the peeps have me on or maybe from the Mexican food that HHGutt cooks for me. I'm only sorry this blog doesn't have odor-vision or scratch and sniff features. After looking at the x-rays, I now have conclusive evidence that I'm as stunning on the inside as I am on the outside.

By Wednesday, my health still didn't please TW and she asked Pop to spend even more $$ and take me for another cab trip. If they thought it was hard getting me into the carrier Friday, it was a piece of cake compared to the fight I put up Wed. I admit defeat. They incarcerated me and we went off.

More humiliation and more torture soon followed. More shots, more fluids, more probing was done by Dr. Evil, with ever the sinister smile on her face. The last straw was the microchip. I never go out—why do I need a microchip?? I get it, pick on the little ghetto cat.

Amount of $$ V-E-T robbed from my Pop

I'm home now and the good news is that I can have as much wet food as I can cram into my face and that after the shot, I don't need daily antibiotics. The bad news is that I suddenly prefer DRY kibble. I'm no longer dehydrated; just a little weak from all the peeps have put me through. I haven't started playing again either. Next time I stop eating, Dr. Evil has threatened to do an abdominal MRI. I figure I owe the peeps big time. Bites will be given out as soon as I feel better. Actually, the revenge began last night when I lunged at TW while she sat on the bed. Without claws, I tried to inpale my teeth in her back. My revenge WILL be sweet.

Friday, August 27, 2010

I was very sick last night and this morning and this could have been why. I'll recount my experience at the V-E-T some other day when I'm feeling better.

Do I look like a happy cat, woman?

You are not going to believe what The Woman did today. She left early to have lunch with her friend and then do some shopping. But I have connections. She cannot get away with anything without me finding out. Around 2:35, I get a call from my homeboy Jamal axing if TW is home. "No," I reply. He then tells me someone fitting her description is up the block FEEDING A STRAY CAT! My fur stood on end when I heard this. Apparently she bought some new cat food for me and this stray came up to her, mewing and rubbing, so she GAVE AWAY MYFOOD! My new food that I never got to taste. Just gave it away to some cat she'd never seen before! Like some hussy picking up a John. What I'd like to know is how that pussy knew TW had a can of cat food in her bag? Does she have x-ray vision? Was TW on the prowl for a cat to feed? Does Pop know TW is feeding strays on his dime?

She came home as proud as punch at her "good deed," and she then proceeded to rub it in my face by producing the hand that had been petting this other cat so I could smell my rival. I should have bitten it, but I was hungry for my own dinner and didn't want to anger her. As it was, she made me wait until 3:30 for my stinky goodness.

She said the "cat" was a "cute, sweet little domestic long hair"; a tortie with a nice floofy tail. What am I? Chopped liver? I'm the world's most stunning cat, woman! When you have the world's most stunning cat in your house, WHY YOU LOOKING AT ANOTHER CAT? If you were dating Derek Jeter, would you be looking at other guys?? Gasp! Can you feel some of the horror I was feeling at this point?

I digress. She even took pictures of the cat to rub in my face; but the best part is that they're on her phone and she doesn't know how to get them on the computer. She's sending them to her e-mail address! Is that rich or what! HAH! [Note from The Woman: And CK claims she could live with a brother or sister cat w/o getting jealous? Look at yourself, Baby Girl, you're beside yourself with jealousy.]

Woman, you erase that this instant! This is my blog! {**scuffle **blood **gore} I'm back. Sorry your sensitive eyes had to see that. I'm sorry that I don't take kindly to being cheated on by TW. Pop would NEVER do that to me. And, yes, I could live with a brother and sister as long as they're not that stray tortie with the floofy tail.

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